


All I Needed Was a Friend Like You

by DJClawson



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 01:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJClawson/pseuds/DJClawson
Summary: Foggy is feeling neglected by Matt and jealous of whomever is taking up all of his time. He shouldn't be.





	All I Needed Was a Friend Like You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pogopop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pogopop/gifts).



> Thanks to LachesisMeg for her beta work, which was definitely not last-minute because I definitely had everything in on time.
> 
> For the prompt:
> 
> Post S3 - Foggy is feeling pushed aside by Matt, and Matt is way more closed off than Foggy had hoped. Turns out it's because Matt's getting to know Maggie. So when Matt realises how Foggy is feeling he decides to introduce them.  
> \+ for discussion of depression and post partum depression  
> ++ for Maggie taking responsibility for abandoning Matt and how that has shaped him.

The first time Matt cancelled, it wasn’t a surprise. Matt was a vigilante, and crime stopped for no man, even though Foggy wished that it did, just for a night, so he could get drinks with his best buddy.

The second time Matt cancelled, well, there was that bit about crime. Nothing had changed in the previous six days as far as Foggy knew. And Matt gave him a little more advanced notice, so he didn’t end up sitting at the bar by himself again, even if it was just a text.

The third time wasn’t so much a cancellation as Matt flat-out telling him, ahead of time, that he was busy that weekend. No, not the whole weekend, but probably. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be pinned down. Sunday was church anyway, so that ate up a lot of time that Foggy would rather spend getting pancakes, but still. All of Saturday?

Foggy made plans with Marci. He didn’t have the cash for a weekend getaway and his credit cards were slammed by his sudden loss of income. Marci would have paid if he’d asked, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t think that would be fair, especially when she was also paying more than her fair share of the rent on her apartment (her name _was_ on the lease). And it wasn’t like she could take off work, anyway, like Matt apparently could at the drop of a hat, but New York was New York, and Foggy could romance her a bit at restaurants that might have been comped because he’d bailed out half the waitstaff after an immigration raid. Marci was always happy to be romanced even when her tough exterior was still in place from work, and he learned the latest about Jeri (as much as Jeri would ever reveal to an underling, as they had both been called), and Marci said that Jessica had overturned two desks this week, which was an office record. If Marci could tell that Foggy was concerned about Matt - and she could always tell these things - she didn’t say anything about it, and Foggy came back to work on Monday refreshed and even a little distracted trying to figure out how he was going to propose to this amazing woman and get her to actually say yes.

Foggy decided that Matt must be spending a lot of time with Karen, but it turned out that wasn’t the case. Karen joined Foggy for drinks after work when Matt declined again. She was still researching articles, this time as a freelancer, and she would get an occasional phone call from some guy only identified as “PC” on her phone that she would answer _very_ quickly by saying she would call back later.

“So who’s PC?” Foggy said when he had a few drinks in him on yet another night of mystery Matt. “And don’t tell me your computer is calling. I know you have a Macbook.”

Karen blushed. “A source.”

“You expect me to go with that.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

He didn’t ask about Matt - not in the concept of “PC,” whomever that was. Karen, he belatedly realized after staring at her phone for way too long, deserved a private life. She rarely asked about Marci, except in a polite fashion of a friend inquiring after a friend’s happiness. Foggy kept life and love separate, so Karen deserved the same. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just curious.”

“He _is_ a source,” she insisted, and Foggy suspected that there was at least a little bit of truth to it. Karen was good at the half-truths that Matt had failed to master.

“Fine, fine. Have your secrets. Some us can get by without them.” He lifted a glass to hers. “But apparently only me.”

If Karen knew why Matt was so busy - and it looked like maybe she didn’t - she wasn’t sharing. Not that Matt ever wanted to let her in on anything anyway, which was unfair to Karen, Foggy thought bitterly.

No, he wasn’t bitter. Just disappointed. He was back with his best friend, trying to hold a law firm together, and he saw him all day, but a lot of the time it felt like Matt mentally wasn’t there. The first time around, it had been Daredevil (and Elektra making a sizable, case-ending contribution). Now Matt was supposed to have that under control. Foggy had text alerts for Daredevil sightings, and they weren’t above average. Matt wasn’t coming in visibly bleeding from his gut, just the usual bumps and scrapes.

“Are you avoiding me?” he said to Matt’s door after coming straight from Josie’s, and no, he didn’t expect the door to the apartment to answer back, he wasn’t that drunk, even if swaying side-to-side did feel good.

The door opened, and Foggy realized he’d forgotten to knock in the first place. Matt had changed out of his work clothes into a more casual outfit, not the clothing he wore while beating low-level offenders senseless. “Foggy?” As  if he couldn’t tell who it was just because the lights weren’t on in his apartment. They never were when Foggy showed up, which he was allowed to do, Matt said many times, but this time, Foggy hadn’t managed to get past the door. “Are you drunk?”

“Why - why are you bothering to ask?”

“I was being polite,” Matt said, his face squished in confusion in that adorable way that really brought in the ladies. “Are you okay?”

“Clearly not; I am drunk.”

Matt put a hand on his shoulder. “Come inside.” He hit the light for him. “Let me get you something.”

“I hate your beer.”

“I wasn’t offering beer,” Matt said, depositing Foggy on the couch. “Let me make some coffee.”

“That’s a myth, you know. That it will sober you up.”

“It’s decaf,” Matt said as he rummaged around his kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on, Matt! That’s what’s going on!” He looked around. “Do you have any snacks?”

Matt rolled his eyes but returned with a bag of Cheetos.

“Why do you have Cheetos? You don’t eat this crap.”

“You do.”

“Awww.” Foggy dug into the bag, despite there not being a napkin in sight. “And I thought you didn’t care about me.”

“Foggy,” Matt insisted, still looking confused, “Of course I care about you.”

“Then why have you been ditching me?” Foggy demanded. “And don’t say Daredevil! I have an app! It says you haven’t even been that busy!”

“There’s an app?” Because of course, this is not something Matt would know about.

“You have fans,” Foggy said between mouthfuls, “online. And in real life, but you don’t seem to care about them. And I mean me. You don’t care about me. You’re always ditching me for bullshit and I don’t know what it’s even about. Are you just sitting in your apartment to avoid me? Are you going out with Karen and her mysterious PC?”

“I thought Karen had a laptop.”

“I mean the guy who’s always calling her! Duh!” And now he got Cheeto dust all over Matt’s couch - which had had worse.

Matt frowned. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I think it might be Frank.”

“ _Frank Castle?_ ”

“She smells like him. I think they’re at least ... friends.”

“ _Smells like him_.”

Matt shrugged. “You asked and I answered. And I’m not ditching you, Foggy. I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what? What do you do all day? I mean all night? What are you doing now? Why can’t we hang, Matt? like we used to?”

“I’ve been busy with,” Matt sighed, “my mom.”

“Your mom? I thought you hated your mom.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“I thought ... ” This one wasn’t so easy with Foggy’s fuzzy brain to deal with. “I thought you were mad at her. For abandoning you. And then becoming a nun.”

“I was mad about her lying about it, too,” Matt said. “I’m just trying to be less angry, I guess.”

The discussion about Matt finding out about his mother had been brief, more of an aside, when they were filling each other in on what they were doing when they weren’t working together. Matt made it clear, over the three lines he used to explain the situation, that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that making him talk about it would be the equivalent of trying to run through an obstacle course, and Foggy had always been bad at obstacle courses. He didn’t even like watching movies where characters had to run through obstacle courses. Just thinking about climbing a wall made his stomach churn. So Foggy hadn’t asked more, and Matt hadn’t brought it up again.

“You’ve been abandoning me to go spend time with your mom.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

“That’s so adorable. That might be the most adorable thing you’ve ever done,” Foggy said. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“Foggy, please - “

“Did you get her a stack of Mother’s Day cards? Did you take her to the Botanical Gardens? Because that’s where everybody goes. Matt, you have to take her to the Botanical Gardens!”

“It’s December.”

“I’m sure they have December stuff! Like poinsettias and fir trees and wreaths and whatever. Matt, if you live in New York and you don’t take your mom to the Botanical Gardens, you’re basically the worst kid ever, you have to do that! You have to do it right away!”

“Foggy, you’re drunk.”

“Did you invite her for Christmas? I think my mom would be so excited she might die.”

“She runs an orphanage, Foggy. The kids have to eat.”

“They can come! You’ve seen how many people my family can feed!”

Matt put his hand up. “Foggy. Please.”

Foggy did know he was at least a little drunk, and he should probably shut his mouth. It was a sensitive issue with Matt, who was 70% water, 30% sensitive issues. And yet still he blurted out, “Can I meet her?”

“I guess,” was Matt’s semi-unreadable answer. “Will you sober up?”

“Gimme a minute. And more snacks.”

It ended up being twenty minutes, and then a long, cold walk to the orphanage where Matt grew up, because they might have circled the block a few times to make sure Foggy was good and ready. Foggy knew Matt donated regularly, but never visited, and since he never spoke of the place foundly, he probably didn’t have a lot of happy memories. But who had happy memories of growing up in an orphanage?

Maybe they kids were in their rooms, or somewhere that wasn’t obvious, because they weren’t running around the chilly hallways and Matt led him straight to the chapel. “Sorry I’m late,” Matt said to the little nun sitting in the back row, and Foggy realized, _Oh my G-d, this is Matt’s mom_. “This is my law partner, Foggy. Foggy, this is Maggie.”

That was her name. Maggie. Maybe it was Sister Maggie, but that wasn’t introduced, nor was she “Mom” but Foggy didn’t expect that, either. He shook hands with the woman he vaguely recognized from Clinton Church that night that he saved Karen from a murderous FBI agent. She was taller standing but still fairly short - the height came from Matt’s dad, apparently - and she had sharp features. She looked like a tough nun, which Foggy supposed she had to be.

“Um, hi,” he fumbled, offering his hand after his stupid brain processed that she wasn’t also blind and there was a reason for him to do that. Unless nuns couldn’t touch men or something. “I’m Franklin Nelson. People call me Foggy. I’ve known Matt since we were roomies in college.” Roomies? Damnit, he was still drunk.

“It’s nice to meet you,” ‘Maggie’ said, and shook his hand. Her fingers were thin. There was no muscle on her at all, but no fat either. “Matthew has told me all about you.”

“Um, all good things I hope.”

“All very good things, Mr. Nelson,” she said, apparently unwilling to settle on ‘Foggy.’

“It’s Foggy. I mean, it’s Franklin, that’s what my mom named me, but it’s Foggy.” He wasn’t drunk, but he was nervous. “So ... Matt has been spending time with you.” As if Matt had to justify where he went, or whom he spent time with. “Which is good?” Fuck, he didn’t know what to say here. “I’m sorry, I - “

“The situation is new to all of us,” Maggie said diplomatically. “Matthew, why don’t you make us some tea?”

“Okay.” Whatever hesitations Matt had about leaving Foggy alone with his mother, he was as eager to be out of the conversation, and he disappeared down the hall.

Maggie waited until he was out of sight before turning back to Foggy. “If you want to say something to me, or ask me something, go ahead. I won’t hold anything you say against you. I probably deserve it anyway.”

“He can still hear us.”

“That can’t be helped. You’re very dear to Matthew, and you’ve spent more time with him than I have. I’m sure you have questions.”

Foggy frowned. Could he really grill a nun? Did he want to? She looked like she could take it. “Where you always going to be a nun, or was that a spontaneous decision when you abandoned Matt as a baby?” He added nervously, “Sorry, that was way too harsh.”

“No, it’s a fair question,” Maggie said. “Yes, I always wanted to be a Bride of Christ. I don’t remember not wanting to be a nun. I met Jack when I was a novice and there was still time to reconsider my vows - and I did.” She sighed. “It wasn’t just lust. I loved Jack. I didn’t know someone could be so violent and so kind and loving at the same time. I didn’t know those qualities could be contained in a single person. He was the most astonishing man I’d ever met. I suppose Matt should be no surprise, then, but he still impresses me, with everything he can do, and how good he is on the inside.”

“But you left him.”

“My mind left before my body did. They called it the ‘baby blues’ in those days. I didn’t know what they called it, because I didn’t ever expect to get pregnant or have a child. I didn’t know what to expect. Now they have statistics - I was one in a thousand for postpartum depression and psychosis. And they have treatments. But there’s still stigma for a mother who can’t care for her child. It’s not that she doesn’t love them. She just can’t _feel_ anything inside her. There’s a cloud over everything. You just want to sit and wait for it to pass. And then later, when it has passed, you’ve missed so much and you’ve lost so much time and you’ve hurt the people around you without intending to, and you never stop feeling bad about it. You confess and you do penance and you’re told you’re forgiven but you don’t feel that way. When good things come, you feel like you don’t deserve it, because of what you _didn’t do_ at the time when you _couldn’t_ do it. I know I could have made Matthew’s life entirely different at any point. If I hadn’t been depressed or afraid I could have been there for him more than I was. I’ll never _not_ be paying for that. An time I get with him now is a blessing.” She touched Foggy’s jacket. “You, though. You were there for him at all of the important times. You supported him and made sure he wasn’t so alone. He didn’t say it but he doesn’t have to say it. I may be a bad mother but I can still tell something about my son. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Foggy didn’t want to keep laying into her, but this was more on Matt. “He didn’t tell me he was still alive for months.”

“But you were the first person he told?”

Foggy nodded. “He told me to stay away from him. Not try to contact him.”

“Matthew doesn’t know what’s good for him. He thinks he can go it alone,” Maggie said. “That’s from my side, in case you’re wondering. Jack was far more sensible.”

“But he came to you.”

“He had someone bring him to Paul - Father Lantom. And _he_ knew to bring him to me. I don’t think Matt would have preferred to return to an orphanage infirmary again if he could ever help it.”

“And ... you want him around now? After everything?” He supposed that was a stupid question, but there were no smart questions in this situation.

“I’ve always wanted a chance with him but never felt like I deserved one. But it’s up to his discretion. I didn’t know if he would want a mother at this point in his life.”

“Everyone needs a mother,” Foggy said. “And, uh, this is totally overstepping, but do you want to come to Christmas dinner with my family? Matt usually goes, and I suppose if he doesn’t want me to make this offer, since he’s listening anyway, he can jump out and stop me now.” He give it a moment, but there was silence in the corridor. “So, yeah. We can get you back in time for Mass. Or other church stuff you might have to do. And my family will not ask a bajillion mean questions. They will just take you in and love you the way they loved Matt from the moment they met him.”

“Let me check with Matthew,” she answered.

“It’s fine,” Matt said, appearing with a tray of tea cups. “I think it would be good.” The ‘good’ there was a hesitant one, but it was there.

Matt was trying. He was trying so hard, maybe harder than he’d ever tried to build a relationship with a person before, and Foggy loved it. “Yeah,” Foggy said. “It would be great.”

The End


End file.
